


Phone Tag

by arionriot



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Come Swallowing, Dirty Talk, Fluff, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arionriot/pseuds/arionriot
Summary: Braden isn't planning on celebrating the shutout today. Carey has other plans.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well, my goal for the day was to write a fic and push my boundaries, and I succeeded in it (with half an hour to go).
> 
> This is unbeta'd because I couldn't be bothered to wait for someone to wake up to beta it for me, welp.
> 
> Dedicated to Ruski because I promised to write her some quick Braden/Carey smut about a month ago.

It took Braden until he reached his living room to see the missed call from Carey. Frowning at his phone, he redials the number and starts pottering around the kitchen, grabbing bread, cheese and a Molson Canadian out of his fridge.

“Hello?” Carey sounds - not sleepy, but somewhere between exhausted and distracted. Like he hadn’t expected Braden to call back, or like he’s in the middle of doing something else.

“Hey babe, I just got home and saw that you called, what’s up?” Braden cracks the beer open and moves to settle into his couch.

“Well, you won your game, and we lost ours, so I figured that at least one of us deserves some reward tonight,” Carey’s breath catches on his last word, and he inhales sharply down the line.

“Carey, what are you - oh,” Heat floods through Braden’s body as he realised exactly what Carey’s doing. Braden clears his throat and closes his eyes for a moment, letting the exhilaration wash through him. “Wh-what are you doing, right now?”

Carey chuckles at Braden’s stumbling, all breathy and low.

“Right now I’ve got you on speaker, my left hand is holding the base of my cock and my right hand is - unh - pressing against my ass. There’s, there’s lube everywhere, I’m just about to press in and - ohhh, it feels so good, Braden I wish you were here with me so you could be - ah - you could be doing this to me instead,” Carey’s panting breath and gravelly voice sends all of Braden’s blood rushing south, his cock already filling out, and shit, so much for heading to bed soon.

“Fuck, Carey,” Braden rubs his cock through his slacks, his hips jolting upwards ever so slightly at the diffused contact. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to - shit - I want you to wrap your hand around the head of your cock and really gently move it. Really gently. Just - just get yourself hard first.” Carey lets out a shuddery breath, crackling down the phone line. Braden frantically undoes his slacks, slips them down just as low as he needs to get his cock out, his underwear being dragged down with them. He can’t quite spread his thighs as wide as he wants to but the angle can work for now.

“Braden, I’ve got two fingers ins-side me now, and shit, it’s such an awkward angle right now, but it nearly feels the same as when you’re prepping me, fuck, I miss your hands, I miss your cock so much -” Carey cuts himself off with a harsh moan, which Braden echoes back. His hand closes around the head of his cock, ever so gently stroking back and forth, exactly the way Carey does to him when they’re together and getting ready for Carey to ride him.

“I miss being able to do things to you too, holy shit, you have no idea how fucking hot you sound on the phone. God, you know what I’m gonna do next time I see you?” Braden’s leaked a bit of precome, which he swipes up with his thumb, spreading across his head.

“Wh-what?” Carey’s speech is already getting more stuttering. Braden never ceased to be amazed with how quickly Carey’s speech ability goes when he’s getting fucked into, or even at the slightest of prostate touches.

“If I was with you, I’d get you to lie on your front, ass up in the air, and I’d spread your ass cheeks, and I’d go to town on your ass. I’d bite your cheeks, and I’d tongue at your hole until you’re sloppy enough that I’d be able to get my fingers in without having to use lube if I wanted to.” Carey interrupts with a long, drawn out whine; Braden then hears the faint but unmistakeable snick of a lube bottle being opened.

“A-and would you? Would you finger me without lube?” Carey sounds absolutely ragged. Braden spits into his hand and strokes himself slowly from base to tip.

“I’d tease you about not using it, but I’d still use it. That water based stuff that you love. And when, fuck, when I’ve got my fingers all lubed up I’d slide two of them right into you, and you’d be so warm and so inviting and I’d be slowly fucking my fingers into you. And you’d love it, you’d be moaning and begging for me to go quicker, but I’d hold off until you’re nice and loose.” Braden can hear soft grunting noises coming from Carey every time he breathes out, short and sharp. Braden closes his eyes again, imagining what Carey looks like across the line, letting his hand speed up. “What are you doing to yourself now?”

“I-I’ve got three fingers inside me, a-and I’m going to use th-the vibe,” Braden groans at the mental image; of Carey lying back, the long silicone vibrator on his bed next to him, three fingers in his ass and one hand slowly stroking himself; his phone face up on the pillows and his head turned towards it so he’d still be able to be picked up by the receiver. Braden’s hand speeds up on his cock, his thumb brushing over the head every few strokes.

“Babe, Carey, you must look so fucking hot right now. I know what you look like when you’re being prepped and fuck, you sound like you’re already so desperate for something hard inside you,” Braden gasps in a sharp breath when he tightens his hand and more precome leaks out. “I wish I was there with you so I could fuck you with that vibe and make you come so hard, make you come everywhere, fuck, are you using the vibe yet?”

Carey doesn’t answer, but a series of whimpers greets him across the line.

“Is that you using it now? Shit, I want you to go really slow. Real nice and slow. Let it come to you, let it wash over you, it doesn’t matter if it takes forever, fuck, you’ll love it so much,” Braden knows he’s rambling now, but judging by Carey’s whining noises the nonsense he’s saying is still effective.

“How close are you, Carey?” Braden’s surprised at how low his voice is getting, but the lack of response from Carey is expected at this point. Pretty close, then.

“Carey? How close? I need an answer, babe,”

“S-so close, shit, keep talking, I’m so hard for you, fuck,”

“Fuck, okay, so I’d be fucking you with the vibe, and I’d have it switched onto high, and it’d be pressed right against your prostate, and then I’d - then I’d take your cock into my mouth, and I’d just suck really gently at the tip, and you’d be writhing in the sheets, and - shit - you’d come in my mouth, and there would be so much of it that I wouldn’t even be able to swallow it all down, and it’d be dripping down my chin and getting all over your legs and -”

“Fuck, Braden!” Carey wails, and then falls silent except for ragged breathing.

Braden speeds up, his hips bucking up automatically to meet with his fist, and he props his phone onto his shoulder so he can reach down and rub along his slit and - “Shit.”

Braden slams his eyes shut as the force of his orgasm hits him; his hand slows down, but keeps working his shaft, wringing the orgasm out of him. When he’s become too sensitive for it to be enjoyable, he stops moving, but keeps holding his hand against his spent cock.

The hand that had been tracing his slit got covered in come , so he makes the split second decision to raise his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers off one by one. He breathes in and out his nose deeply, opens his eyes, and picks the phone back up again.

“Carey? You still there?” Braden’s voice comes out much quieter than he anticipated.

“Y-yeah, shit, that was intense. You sounded amazing, God, you should be dirty talking every time we fuck from now on.” Carey’s voice sounds dry and cracked; Braden will need to remind him to drink a glass of water before he goes to sleep.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time we do this.” Braden chuckles, settling into his post orgasmic haze.

“Hey. I, uh, didn’t say it earlier, but I’m so fucking proud of you. You really deserve the President’s Trophy, your playing this season has been - you have been phenomenal. You’re just absolutely incredible and I’m so happy that I’m lucky enough to be involved with you.” Carey sounds like he’s smiling down the line.

“You can say we’re dating, you know, you’re allowed to say that now,” Braden can feel the blush spreading across his face, but he feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders, one that he didn’t even know he was carrying - but that’s ridiculous, he couldn’t possibly have thought that Carey would have gotten mad at him for it.

“I know I can say that we’re dating, but it sounds so juvenile - not that you’d know anything about things being too young for you, you’re still in your mid twenties,” Carey responds, and Braden smiles; back to their usual routine.

“Yeah well, coming from you. You’re practically a cryptkeeper - how old are you again? Seventy-nine? A hundred and three?” Braden chirps, answered with a giggle from Carey. “I love you, Carey. I can’t wait to see if we’re gonna end up facing off against each other in the playoffs at all. Not only so my team can crush yours, but so we can spend each and every night together.”

“Hah, as if the Caps are gonna get anywhere near the finals.” Braden can hear Carey breathe in deeply. “But, yeah, I really hope so too. I just - I can’t wait until off season, so we can spend more time together. I miss seeing you all the time. I love you, so so much.”

They can organise for their offseason later, Braden decides; for now, they can just revel in an evening of success for Braden, and good orgasms for both.


End file.
